Feelings: Day At The Beach Poem by Margaret Alice

Sentenced to spending a day at the beach
the sun is frying my skin while the wind’s
freezing cold; holiday-makers with grim
determination lounging about; very few
smiles to be seen; intimidating joggers
ploughing along, if I see another one I
shall scream – though the sight of me
and my book probably drives them to
distraction too… I just can’t stand the
holy atmosphere of rituals of devout
exercise as if it were a sacred duty from
above; well-groomed women and designer –
clad children; expensive towels and hired
chairs; I want to make sense of it all and
I can’t – right in my line of sight informal
settlements clutching to the ridge; people
fighting for subsistence while we on the beach
excel in civilised refinement; stringing
meaningless moments together – staring in
stupefaction as people lovingly rub suntan
lotion into their expensive skin; then remain
horizontal for hours on end; why this duty to
become a meaningless accoutrement of
purposeless emptiness?